


scissors made of glitter

by likecharity



Category: British Comedy RPF, The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-07
Updated: 2007-12-07
Packaged: 2018-10-25 11:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10762947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likecharity/pseuds/likecharity
Summary: "I'm going to fuck you," says Noel the second the door is closed behind them, his voice low and throaty.Simon falters, caught off guard, his fingers slipping off the key in the door. He doesn't say anything right away. This was—quite understandably—not what he expected Noel to say upon entering the room.Have you got anything to drink?, maybe, or perhapsThis is the worst dressing room EVER.But not such a blatant attempt at seduction—if you could even call it that, which, frankly, he doesn't think you could.





	scissors made of glitter

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Noel's third episode of being team captain on Buzzcocks, but I don't think you have to have seen that for this to make sense, although there are a couple of references to it. Also, MY GOD, this was really, really difficult.

"Can I come in?" says Noel, once the others have passed them in the corridor and they're left in privacy. He leans back against the wall next to Simon's dressing room door and bites his lip.

"What?" says Simon, a little taken aback. He's pretty sure Noel isn't all that fond of him, so it seems like an odd request.

"You said you wanted to see me after," Noel reminds him, with a twinkle in his eye. Simon has to admit that there is something about his stance—one leg bent, the heel of his boot resting against the wall—that makes him think of a rebellious student turning up for a detention.

Simon wants to state the obvious and say _yeah, but I was joking_ , but there doesn't seem to be much point. "Yeah," he says, unlocking the door and stepping inside. "So you're interested in that perm, then?" he jokes awkwardly.

"I'm going to fuck you," says Noel the second the door is closed behind them, his voice low and throaty.

Simon falters, caught off guard, his fingers slipping off the key in the door. He doesn't say anything right away. This was—quite understandably—not what he expected Noel to say upon entering the room. _Have you got anything to drink?_ , maybe, or perhaps _This is the worst dressing room EVER._ But not such a blatant attempt at seduction—if you could even call it that, which, frankly, he doesn't think you could.

"Er," is all he can manage, still failing to organise his thoughts, and Noel's lips curl into a smile as he saunters forwards, wrapping his arms around Simon's skinny waist and pulling him in close.

Lips mere centimetres away, Noel murmurs, "Is that okay?"

He doesn't actually wait for Simon's answer before kissing him, lips hot and soft and tasting like chapstick, and Simon's hands nervously find Noel's hips, fingers splaying out around them. Noel teases Simon's mouth open with his tongue, and the two of them stumble to the sofa without letting go of one another.

When Noel finally does move away, presumably more for breath than anything else, he just smiles again, mouth splitting into a wide, teeth-filled grin.

"That's okay, then?" he says, waiting, this time, for Simon's response (which admittedly only consists of some heavy breathing and a rather shaky nod) before pulling him forwards by a fistful of his blazer and smashing their mouths together once again.

Simon feels slender fingers fiddling with the buttons on his cardigan and he reaches out, remembering too late that Noel's jacket zip is not where one would expect (the middle), and his hand skims Noel's chest awkwardly. His cardigan is pulled open and Noel's hands slip underneath his t-shirt, cold against his bare skin as they stroke his chest.

The two of them part for a moment, and Simon struggles out of his cardigan and blazer at the same time. The left sleeve turns inside out and his hand gets caught, and Noel splutters with laughter as he leans in to help, yanking on the fabric until Simon's arm is free.

"You know, sometimes layering is a bad idea," Noel mutters, and Simon is rather amazed that he's bringing up the subject of fashion at this moment in time. But Noel is laughing, and Simon laughs too, and suddenly it seems like the atmosphere is a lot less tense.

Simon pulls off his t-shirt and initiates the next kiss, then, feeling much more comfortable—laughter always tends to make him feel that way, for some reason. Noel cuts off the kiss quickly, unzipping his own jacket and peeling off a violently blue t-shirt before lying back on the sofa, dragging Simon down on top of him.

Noel's mouth is warm and wet and open and Simon exhales, letting himself relax further. It's been a long time since he kissed someone—really kissed someone, like _this_ —and he just wants to let himself enjoy it. He can feel Noel growing hard against him and his own cock seems to imitate Noel's upon feeling this. Simon pushes down slightly with his hips, feeling himself getting harder as his cock rubs against the bulge in Noel's jeans.

"Fuck," Noel hisses suddenly, and his hand leaves its resting place in the small of Simon's back and moves down to the curve of his arse, clutching tightly. Simon moves again, still very slightly, but it's enough, and Noel groans.

"Got to take these off," he says, gesturing to his trousers.

"I can't even imagine how you got them _on_ ," says Simon, as Noel squirms and wriggles underneath him, unzipping the skin-tight red trousers.

"Clever," Noel retorts.

"You might want to take off your boots, first," Simon suggests, sitting up—between Noel's legs, as the sofa is not all that large—and Noel rolls his eyes.

"You sure know how to ruin a mood, Amstell," he smirks, pulling off his boots and socks and chucking them onto the floor.

"Yeah. It seems to be a specialty of mine," Simon sighs in agreement.

Noel just shakes his head, and for a moment Simon isn't sure he's hearing things right, because it then sounds like he says—tone of voice almost frustrated—"You are so fucking _cute._ "

It's only minutes before clothing is no longer an issue, and the two of them are back on the sofa, Noel on top of Simon, kissing him fiercely and wrapping his hand around his cock as if he's done this a million times before. Simon bucks his hips almost automatically and Noel meets the thrust into his fist, bringing his hand back up to the head of Simon's cock and stroking his thumb smoothly over the gathering bead of precome at the tip. Simon lets out a groan and Noel grins at him, sliding his hand back down, slick now, and hot, as he finds a quick rhythm that makes Simon writhe on the sofa beneath him.

Simon clutches at Noel's skinny hips as if he's hanging on to him for dear life. He tries to move his hand, aiming in the general direction of Noel's cock which is currently pressed rather uncomfortably against his own thigh. But then Noel lets go of him, and, with one hand gripping the back of the sofa and one gripping the side, he raises himself up slightly and thrusts his hips forward, his cock colliding with Simon's in one swift movement. Simon bites his lip hard, staring down between his legs as Noel does it again, his cock rubbing against Simon's.

"Fuck," Noel hisses, through clenched teeth, and Simon glances up at him and sees that he's watching too.

Noel lets go of the sofa with one hand, and spits into his palm before reaching down, curling his fingers around both of their cocks together. Simon's hips jerk and Noel swears again, but he's wriggling around like he can't get comfortable.

"Sit up," he says, and Simon obeys immediately without even thinking about it, pushing himself up with his hands.

Noel sits up too, in front of him, and Simon shifts, lifting up his legs and throwing them forwards, making brackets around Noel's hips. Noel's eyes flicker downwards as he rearranges his own wiry frame, feet slinking underneath Simon's legs, his whole body edging closer. Their cocks bump together again and Noel spits into his hand then clasps it around both of them, watching as he brings his hand up and down, the pressure and the speed and the _everything_ just right, and Simon remembers Noel saying he had a girlfriend but he refuses to believe he's never done this before.

Noel's thumb glides over the head of Simon's cock again, the feeling almost too intense, pushing him dangerously close to the edge. He makes a sort of strangled sound in his throat and flops forwards, his chin over Noel's shoulder, Noel's black hair tickling his skin. He hears him laughing softly, gently, in his ear, and his hand tightens, speed increasing, and Simon clutches his back, groaning.

"C'mon then, enough of this," Noel whispers to him, suddenly, and his hand slows before leaving.

He shuffles backwards on the sofa, just far away enough so that their cocks are no longer touching, but their legs are, hot sweaty skin almost too close for comfort. Simon's cock aches and he fights the urge to keep on rubbing up against Noel's. He swallows and tears his eyes away from Noel's crotch, the slick, flushed erection surrounded by sparse dark hair.

He meets Noel's eyes again, finding himself feeling faintly embarrassed. He wants to look away again, but he knows Noel will think it some kind of triumph if he does.

"You're not even fazed by this, are you?" Noel says suddenly, a bemused expression on his face.

"Why would I be?" says Simon smugly, shrugging as if this is the sort of thing that happens to him every day, as if it's every other episode of _Buzzcocks_ that he ends up with someone wanking him off in his dressing room.

He knows Noel wants him to be taken aback, all shocked and scared, and in all truth, he is a little bit, but there's no way he's letting it show. Noel wants to be worshipped, he could tell that much from their first meeting. He wants to be seen as some sort of Sex God, wants Simon to be falling at his feet.

"No reason," Noel says, bringing Simon back to the present. "Just—you're pretty easy, that's all."

Simon grits his teeth, trying to come up with a witty retort, but none come, and he flounders. All the blood's gone to his cock, aching between his legs, longing for Noel to touch it again, and he can't think straight. Maybe he _is_ seeing Noel as some sort of Sex God after all.

He's not easy, though, that much he knows. He's certainly not the kind of guy who goes around having sex with random men he barely knows, especially not ones who wear sparkly cowboy boots and make-up, and trousers so tight they've got no room for underwear. But it's been a long time. And here's Noel, offering himself up on a plate (Noel runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips, and Simon's cock throbs again) and it's not like he can say no to that.

Especially because that would mean Noel had _won._ Noel's already made a bit of fool of him on the show, claiming not to have known who he was, having comebacks ready for every single one of Simon's putdowns. And implying that he was _jealous_ of him, and Simon hadn't even had anything to say _back_ to that because it'd surprised him so much. All he'd managed to do all this time was make fun of a couple of Noel's celebrity friends.

And now Noel's here, expecting him to back down, chicken out, probably expecting him to say, _oh Noel, I couldn't possibly sleep with you right now, it's just not my style, oughtn't we to go out for a coffee and get ourselves properly acquainted first?_

"Okay," says Noel suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts, "you carry on with your internal monologue or whatever's going on in there, I'll get the condom out of my wallet."

He disentangles himself from Simon and crouches down on the floor, rummaging through various pockets in the clothing that's been tossed aside. Simon shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, watching him. He can't help but feel that Noel still _really_ has the upper hand here, and he wishes there was something he could do to turn that around.

"Got it," says Noel, jumping back onto the sofa again.

He's got a condom in his hand, and also a tiny little packet of something which Simon assumes is lube. He's only ever had sex in bedrooms, and tubes are what he's used to seeing lube come in. He's a little surprised that Noel actually carries it around with him—has he been planning this since he agreed to be on the show, or is this just the sort of thing he does often? Simon just looks at him.

"You all right?" Noel says, but he sort of blends the words together, so it comes out sounding more like 'Yaright?'.

"Yeah," says Simon quickly, determined not to let Noel see that he's actually pretty nervous.

"This is weird, isn't it? You're kind of out of your comfort zone," says Noel suddenly, making a series of weird hand gestures, apparently to illustrate his point. "You're usually all on top of things."

There's a pause, in which Simon curses inwardly and wonders what he hell he's meant to say to that.

"You're not so cool when there's no autocue to help you out, huh?"

Simon grits his teeth, struggling between the almost-equal desires to 1) punch Noel in the nose, and 2) kiss him. He wants to do both. Very, very hard.

Noel's a step ahead of him, though, grabbing him and kissing him, licking him on the lips before sliding his tongue into Simon's mouth. Noel grabs his face, fingers stroking at his jawline, and Simon tries to stay in some sort of control. Noel's right, that's the worst thing. It's easy to stay on top of things when he's hosting a quiz show. If the teams are out of line all he has to do is raise his voice a little and order is resumed. He hears Noel's voice again, _Simon, you're like one of those useless supply teachers_ , and he digs his fingernails into Noel's shoulder, kissing him harder.

Noel's hand slides down his chest and then he hears the sound of a packet being torn open, and he knows Noel is anxious to get on with it. He moves back, watching Noel sliding the condom onto his cock.

"Turn over," says Noel, and Simon does immediately, not even realising for a good few seconds that he's doing exactly what Noel tells him without hesitation.

On his hands and knees, he cranes his neck to look behind him, and Noel leans forward, the heat and weight of his body covering Simon, hard cock pressing into the cleft of his arse. Noel's hair hangs down, tickling Simon's back, and he presses a wet, messy kiss to Simon's shoulder.

"Fuck," says Simon, quietly, spitting the word out.

He turns back again, and Noel slides two fingers into his own mouth, sucking on them, wetting them up to the knuckle. Simon watches, unable to ignore the aching between his legs and he steadies himself with one hand, reaching for his cock with the other.

Noel straightens up and Simon feels his fingers teasing his entrance. He hates himself for it but he finds himself bucking backwards, pushing his arse towards Noel, wanting— _needing_ —those fingers inside him.

"Eager little thing, aren't you," Noel murmurs, amused, and Simon buries his face in a sofa cushion.

He feels the first finger pushing in, sliding slowly, _too_ slowly, and before he has time to think, he hears himself stammering "please, please", begging for it as Noel's finger slides back out of him, _fuck—_

Noel thrusts two fingers into him at once and he groans, hand slipping off his cock, knowing if he keeps touching himself he's sure to come too soon. He hears Noel sucking in a sharp breath and letting it out again shakily, so it almost sounds like laughter, and he feels the fingers moving inside him, stretching him, preparing him. He turns again, and sees Noel tearing open the little lube packet with his teeth, spitting out the unwanted shred of plastic.

"You ready?" Noel whispers, and Simon hates him for that, hates him for making him answer when he knows what he's thinking is _yes, oh God, please fuck me_.

"Mmhmm," he moans, instead, and Noel seems to accept this, removing his fingers and slicking his cock with the lube for what is entirely _too long_ a period of time. Simon grips the sofa cushions, head bent down, breath held, waiting.

Finally he feels the head of Noel's cock breaching his hole, and he breathes out steadily as Noel pushes inside him.

" _Fuck_ ," Noel hisses, and Simon feels him place his hands, large and strong, on his arse, spreading him open as he slides fully inside.

Simon arches his back, bringing his head up, and there is a moment of stillness, the only noise Noel catching his breath. Simon closes his eyes, and just lets himself enjoy the feeling, the feeling of being filled. Noel's hands slide along the sweaty plane of his back, and Simon turns his head tentatively.

Noel seems to take this as a request for him to start moving, and he pulls out half way, ever so slowly, and Simon watches him staring down at himself, and he imagines what he must be seeing. Noel thrusts forward, and a groan escapes Simon's lips, causing Noel's gaze to jerk back to him. Noel bends over, stomach and chest hot and pressing against Simon's back again, and his fingers tangle in Simon's curls as he pulls his head closer, lips wet and brushing softly against Simon's own.

"Christ, you're hot," Noel murmurs, and Simon doesn't even bother this time to hide his surprise. Noel wiggles his hips and Simon gasps. "No one's ever told you that before, have they?"

All Simon can do is shake his head, he can't be bothered keeping up this pretense that he's on a par with Noel as far as sexual confidence and experience go. He's been called cute more times than he can count, but hot? Noel's right. Never.

One of Noel's arms wraps around him, hand spreading out across his chest, fingers teasing his hard nipples. Again, Noel thrusts, quicker and harder this time, and every nerve in Simon's body sings out as he grips the cushions, cock throbbing desperately between his legs. Noel seems to read his mind as his hand leaves his chest, sliding down his stomach to wrap around his cock.

Simon moans, urging Noel on. "Please," he groans, and Noel complies, his fist tightening around Simon's aching erection and sliding slickly up and down. Simon moans louder, forgetting his earlier thoughts about making sure the two of them stayed quiet. Nothing else seems to matter right now except Noel's hand on his cock, Noel's cock in his arse, pushing, pulling, thrusting.

Noel straightens up, letting go of Simon's cock, and Simon doesn't know if this is just a momentary thing while he gets back into a comfortable position, but he doesn't care, he can't stand to lose that contact for one second. He grabs his cock, hand moving frantically, and feels Noel's strong hands pulling him back against the jut of his hipbones, cock sliding deep inside him.

All thoughts of competition and upstaging and doing something to prove himself go completely out of his head. All he wants is for Noel to fuck him deeper, faster, to keep doing what he's doing until Simon comes harder than he ever has in his life. And Noel seems to have a similar goal—he thrusts into him quicker and quicker, the angle changing suddenly, and Simon thinks he's going to explode when Noel hits his prostate.

"Noel," he hears himself moaning, "Fuck. _Noel._ "

He manages, somehow, to twist his neck again and look behind him, and he sees Noel with his head thrown back, pale white throat shimmering with sweat, dark hair tangled and damp. He comes at the sight of him, spilling hot over his hand, not caring if he stains the sofa. He clenches tight around Noel's cock, his orgasm feeling like it'll last forever, vision blurring, nerves jangling.

When his vision clears again he sees Noel with his mouth wide open, but with no sound escaping it, every muscle in his body taut and tense as he grips Simon's hips, coming hard with his cock buried deep inside him. Simon's head drops back down to the cushions, legs spread with his arse in the air as Noel rides out his orgasm, still thrusting slowly, his breath coming quick and uneven.

Simon still feels dizzy and faint throughout whatever measure of time that passes next. He feels Noel slide out of him and his legs sink down so that he is lying flat on his front on the sofa, stomach in the wet patch. He hears the faint creaking of the wooden floor before Noel settles down next to him, and he manages to pull himself up into a sitting position and wipe the sweat from his forehead. He gives a sideways glance to Noel, and sees that he is surveying the rather empty, ugly room. He wonders what to say, but as always, Noel gets there first.

"I'm sorry Simon, but this is the worst dressing room in the _entire world_ ," says Noel, frowning as he scuffs a bare foot against the hideous rug by the sofa. He turns back to Simon and adds, this time grinning, "Have you got anything to drink?"

Simon wants to laugh, but he thinks that maybe by now, he should've worked out that it's not unusual for Noel Fielding to do things a little backwards.  



End file.
